


i make up things i that would never say; i say them very quietly

by leafvillagebitch



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Gay Richie Tozier, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Unresolved Romantic Tension, richie is so dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leafvillagebitch/pseuds/leafvillagebitch
Summary: if Richie's token was a memory of an afternoon in a hammock with Eddie and a conversation with Stan
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 11
Kudos: 108





	i make up things i that would never say; i say them very quietly

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic for them so sorry if i haven't gotten their voices totally down yet! :)   
> unbeta-ed so all mistakes are my own, lazy fault.
> 
> title from Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out by Richard Siken

Richie shoved his hands in his pockets as he stood outside the house he grew up in. His parents had long since passed away, and they’d left the house to him. Unfortunately, he’d had no recollection that it existed, so it had fallen into a state of disrepair that he had no intention of fixing. As he stepped through the threshold, he was hoping that some memories might shake loose, or that the “token” Mike kept talking about would be laying around here somewhere. He cautiously wandered down into the basement. He plopped down on the couch and grabbed the old issue of  _ Wonder Woman _ that was laying on the arm.

“I wonder...” he said as he opened the first page.

He was back in the clubhouse, he was 14, and he was reading a comic in the hammock.

Eddie started walking over, “Hey, Rich, your ten minutes are up.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The hammock! Ten minutes each was the rule!” Eddie scowled, which did nothing but encourage Richie. He almost involuntarily thought about how Eddie was cute when he got worked up, but shoved that thought down as deep as it could go.

Richie shrugged and smiled, “I don’t see any sign.”

“Are you really being this way right now?” Eddie continued talking, but Richie tuned out, choosing instead to stare at Eddie and smile. Sometimes he felt so in love with Eddie he thought everyone around him  _ must _ know, He was certain that if any of their friends started paying even an ounce of attention, that they would see it written all over his face: Trashmouth Tozier was a big queer and in love with Eddie Kaspbrak.

“We agreed on the fucking rule!” Eddie yelled, only snapping Richie out of the trance because he was now climbing on top of him and into the hammock, muttering something about what an asshole Richie is. Richie went entirely stiff for a split second before he started pushing at Eddie, and when he looked over Stan was rolling his eyes. He quickly turned his attention from Eddie to… literally anyone else.

He heard Ben saying “There’s this architecture program I was thinking about applying to-”

“I’d apply to it,” Richie said, almost too loudly, “Just so I could get the hell away from Derry.” Away from this awful town, away from these feelings he was having about Eddie, or maybe Eds would go with him. He turned to look at Eddie, to see if there was even a sliver of an indication that he would want to pack up and go with him on this fictional trip to architecture camp, but Eddie was just sitting there, arms crossed, glaring across the hammock.

“I’d go to Florida,” Mike said.

“You should go with him, Stan, since you’re already 80 years old! You could clean up with all the grandmas!” Richie teased. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Rich.” Stan responded, and Richie made kissy noises back at him. 

Still disarmed by Eddie’s closeness to him, Richie tried to go back to reading his comic book, but before long, he felt, more than saw, Eddie’s foot knocking off his glasses and smacking him in the face.

“What the hell, dude!”

“Pay attention to me, Trashmouth! It’s bad enough that you’re refusing to get out of the hammock, but now you can’t even be bothered to talk to me while we’re both squished into this thing?!”

“Aw, Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie said, “Are you not getting enough attention at home because Mrs. K is spending all her time on her lover?”

“Her lover?! For the last time, Richie! You and my mom are not- oh my god what are you doing!!” Eddie yelled as Richie started to rock the hammock, “You’re gonna knock us out of this thing!”

“I am not!” Richie yelled, turning himself over to be shoulder to shoulder with Eddie.

“I swear to GOD, RICH! IF I GET KNOCKED ONTO THE GROUND OF THIS DIRTY, UNDERGROUND-”

“There, Eds. I’m done! Now would you calm down?”

“That’s not my name! Why are you sitting like this? Now we’re both squished and-”

“I thought we could read Wonder Woman together - maybe then you’d stop whining about me ignoring you, you big baby!” Richie saw Stan’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.

“Oh,” Eddie softened, and Richie thought he might die right then and there. “Yeah I’d read Wonder Woman with you, Rich. You, uh, you read faster than me though.”

“Well, you can turn the pages then, Eds.” He thought about teasing Eddie, but decided that he didn’t want to ruin whatever small moment they were having. 

They sat like that for a while, Richie waiting for Eddie to turn the pages as the rest of their friends continue to talk, Bev continued to chain smoke, and Ben continued to make improvements on the dugout. Before long, Richie realize that Eddie hadn’t turned the page in five minutes, and when Richie looked down, Eddie had fallen asleep, right there against his chest. Richie was pretty sure that no matter what happened, for the rest of his life, that this would be the exact moment he would want to go back to, if he could. 

“Hey, dipshits,” Richie jumped awake at the sound of Stan’s voice, “We’ve gotta go; it’s time for dinner. Everyone else already left.” He said, before turning to pack up his own things, leaving the two of them alone.

Richie rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before poking Eddie’s still sleeping face, which had somehow made its way onto his chest while they were sleeping. “Eds,” he said, “Eddie spagheeettttiiii,” he tried, ruffling Eddie’s hair.

“Ugh, what, Richie?” Eddie said, his voice still groggy with sleep. It was so cute that Richie thought he might die.

“We fell asleep. Stan said-“

“Shit! Shit shit shit! What time is it? My mom-“ Eddie scrambled to get out of the hammock.

“Dude! Stop moving you’re gonna-“

And before Richie could finish his sentence, he was on the ground, staring into Eddie’s eyes. 

Stan, who was long finished packing at this point, looked over when he heard them fall, but when he saw the looks on both of their faces, he decided that he should mind his own business.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but Richie would have sworn they were there for an eternity. Richie couldn’t move with Eddie’s weight on top of him, and Eddie seemed so shocked by the whole thing that he  _ wouldn’t _ move. Richie, who had pointedly fixed his gaze on Eddie’s eyes and only on his eyes, found it odd that Eddie wasn’t panicking about all the diseases they could get from the dirt. When he started to tease him about it, he watched Eddie’s gaze drop to his mouth, and he found his throat too dry to speak the words he’d been so ready to throw. Richie licked his lips and watched Eddie’s pupils blow. He braved a glance at Eddie’s mouth, which was slightly parted, “Eds…?” he whispered, hoping he didn’t sound as affected as he felt.

Stan cleared his throat, “Richie, do you still want me to stay over tonight?”

“Yeah,” Richie said too loudly, “If Eddie will ever get off of me!” Richie sat up and almost slammed his head into Eddie’s as Eddie scrambled to stand up.

“Shut up, Trashmouth!” Eddie yelled, “you know my mom will freak if I’m not home by sundown!”

“Do you need us to walk you home, baby Eddie?” Richie said, climbing out of the dugout after Stan, “I wouldn’t mind stopping for a quick smooch from Mrs. K!”

“For the last time, Richie! You’re NOT fucking my mom!” Eddie almost slipped trying to climb up the ladder and Richie reflexively reached out to grab him. “Thanks, Rich. We can walk back together if you guys both want?”

“Only if you two stop bickering,” Stan rolled his eyes. They weren’t listening to him; they were too busy shoving each other and arguing about god knows what. Stan started walking, knowing they’d follow.

“Okay shut up for real, Richie,” Eddie said as they approached his house, “you know my mom will flip if we’re yelling about anything!”

“I know that, Eds! I’m not stupid!” Richie pouted as they stopped outside Eddie’s gate.

“See ya later alligator!” Eddie said.

“In a while, crocodile,” Stan replied.

“Bye Spaghetti, see you tomorrow!” Richie said as he ruffled Eddie’s hair.

“Bye Trashmouth,” Eddie responded as he shoved Richie off of him.

Richie and Stan walked back to Richie’s without saying much; Richie couldn’t stop thinking about the weight of Eddie’s head on his chest, the way Eddie looked when he landed on top of him, how lucky he was that his body hadn’t reacted to that. Sometimes he felt like if any of his friends knew how he felt about Eddie, his whole world would crumble. Sometimes he felt like if he didn’t tell someone about it, his secret would suffocate him; he had carved their initials into the kissing bridge one of those times, as if to say: I am here, I exist, and I love Eddie Kaspbrak. Sometimes the absolute enormity of what he felt for Eddie disgusted him. Most of the time, though, he tried not to think about it.

“You ok, Rich?” Stan asked when they were almost to Richie’s house.

“What?” Richie snapped out of his trance. “Yeah, I’m fine, Stanley! I’d be better if-”

“If you were fucking my mom?” Stan rolled his eyes.

Richie shot him finger guns.

Stan sighed, “Richie, you know you don’t have to…” He glanced at Richie, who looked as panicked as Stan has ever seen him. “Never mind. What’s Mrs. T making for dinner?”

“I don’t know, I think she said something about sloppy joe’s. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I love your mom’s cooking.” Stan said. It was clear to Richie he was trying to fill the silence, but he didn’t feel much like talking. 

“She said she was gonna get the new Star Wars movie from the video store.” Richie offered.

“Cool,” Stan said, letting them fall back into silence.

Richie stayed quiet all through dinner; even his mom asked if he was feeling alright. He made an excuse about being tired before he and Stan excused themselves and went down to the basement to put in the movie.

He knew Stan could sense that something was up. They’d been best friends since kindergarten; if anyone knew Richie’s moods, it was Stan.

“Do you ever feel like…” Richie trailed off.

“Do I ever feel like what, Rich?”

“I don’t know, man. Let’s just watch the movie.” 

“Okay then...” Stan said. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Uh… yeah? And?”

“Well… you can just… you can tell me anything, Richie. I just want you to know that. After everything… It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Thanks, man.” Richie said, in a moment of uncharacteristic seriousness.

The movie finished, and Richie still felt paralyzed by his emotions. If he could tell anyone, it would be Stan. He knew Stan meant it when he had said anything, but sometimes he could barely admit what he was -- queer -- to himself.

“Do you want me to ask my dad if he can help set up the hide-a-bed?” Richie asked.

“Sure. Do you want me to go get the blankets and stuff from your room?” Stan asked, with the ease of someone who had spent the night hundreds of times over almost ten years. They’d had countless movie nights, sleepovers, shared secrets when they were supposed to be sleeping. If someone would stay by his side even if he was queer, it would be Stan.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” he replied.

Richie’s dad helped set up the hide-a-bed and his mom helped them put the sheets and blankets on. “Just because it’s summer doesn’t mean you boys need to stay up all night!” His mom said.

“Okay, mom, we know!” Richie whined. He waited until he heard her door close upstairs, sat up criss-cross applesauce on the hide-a-bed, and turned to Stan.

“Have you ever had a secret that you felt like you couldn’t tell anyone otherwise they’d look at you differently?”

“Well, it’s not a secret, but sometimes people treat me differently when they find out I’m Jewish…”

“But you’ve never had a part of yourself you felt like was wrong? Or like you had to hide in case your friends didn’t want to be friends anymore?’

“Richie, I swear, if this is the set up to some elaborate dick joke I’m gonna-”

“No! No, it’s not. Honest.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

Richie groaned. How was he supposed to talk about this thing that he barely had a name for, that might change the way Stan sees him forever, that could ruin his whole life if the secret got out? What if he didn’t want to have overnights or share the hide-a-bed anymore? What if he told Mike or Bill? Or even worse, Eddie?

“Never mind.” He said.

“No, Rich! You’ve been weird and cryptic and quiet all night! Just spit it out!”

“I can’t, Stan! I don’t know how to talk about it!” Richie yelled.

“Boys?” They heard Richie’s mom at the top of the stairs, “quiet down down there please! Your father and I have to go to work tomorrow!”

“Sorry Mrs T!” Stan yelled up.

Richie waited until he heard the door close again and took a deep breath. He looked over at Stan, whose face was open and waiting, but still expectant, and maybe vaguely worried. He thought once more about Eddie, the way his eyes were all squinty after he woke up, the way he always rose to Richie’s teasing, and he knew that if he didn’t tell Stan, it would all be too much for one person to bear.

“Ok, so…Ok… this is really hard,” Richie said, “and for once i’m not talking about my massive dick,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Stan glared. 

“Ok! Ok, sorry, Stanley! Uh, alright.” Richie struggled to find the words, “Ok, so you know how last year, every boy in class had a crush on Maggie Jones?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t shut up about wanting to fuck her for like, six months.” Stan said.

“Right…” Richie heard his voice start to shake, “So… I didn’t really have a crush on her…”

“What?”

“Yeah… I just kinda… lied, I guess.” Richie said. He tried to take deep breaths.

“Wait…” Stan said, sounding vaguely annoyed, “You’ve been acting weird all day because you lied about having a crush on Maggie Jones? Richie, no one-”

“No, Stan, just- just let me finish!” Richie tried to keep himself from yelling again; he knew his mom would kill him if she had to come downstairs a second time.

“Okay, okay, sorry, Rich!” Stan held his hands up in an act of acquiescence.

“So… I didn’t have a crush on Maggie because…” Richie’s voice became almost inaudible, “because I don't really… like girls… like that…”

It was finally out, and Richie thought that he might puke. He had practiced saying it out loud, once or twice, but it was always so quietly. Now, with it loud enough for someone to hear ... and when Stan didn’t say anything, and the silence felt like it was going to envelop them both, Richie did what he did best: He started talking.

“But it’s not a big deal, I mean I’m still me, and it’s not like I have a crush on-” 

Stan tilted his head to one side and shrugged, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Richie asked, “Is that it? You don’t… you don’t think I’m gross or perverted or anything?”

Stan softened, “Oh, Rich. You’re still my best friend!” 

“So you’ll still come over for overnights? And we can still share the Hide-a-bed? Because it’s not like I have a crush on you - I mean, no offense, Stan, but you’ve been my best friend since we were like, babies -- that’s just kinda gross.”

“Is that all you wanted to tell me? You like boys and you think I’m gross?” If that’s it, then can we turn the lights off and go to bed?

“Shut up, Urine,” Richie shoved Stan as he got up to turn the lights off. They climbed under their blankets, and Richie built up his courage one more time. 

“Stan, there’s one more thing. And this is the real reason I told you -- because I feel like if I don’t talk to  _ someone _ about it, I really it might kill me - and you really are my best friend, and I trust you about everything, and I just don’t know what to do because I  _ know _ it’s totally unrealistic, but-”

“Rich,” Stan cut him off again, his voice gentle and soft, “It’s Eddie, isn’t it?”

Richie stared up into the darkness of the room, uncharacteristically quiet for a moment.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I think I’m in love with him.”

“I think so too,” Stan said.

“He doesn’t- He isn’t- He would never want…. that, though.”

Stan was quiet for a while before sighing, “I don’t think Eddie knows what he wants.”

Richie dropped the Wonder Woman comic book, slumped to the floor, and felt the tears welling up in his throat. “Fuck this,” he said aloud, “How are we supposed to kill this fucking clown without my best friend?”


End file.
